Dangerous Secrets
by lucytiger
Summary: Dean has kept secrets about his relationship with John from Sam. Secrets that go all the way back to a slightly lessthanperfect childhood for Dean which Sam knew nothing about... Abuse hurtdean. On permanent hiatus.
1. Sam Left Him

Secrets

Disclaimer: don't own nothin'

Sam Left Him

Dean came to slowly. Very slowly. His head ached like nothing else and his whole body was throbbing. His ribs felt cracked. His left forearm was sore but felt like it was bandaged. Ah, small favours. So maybe he had a conscience after all.

Dean opened his eyes a crack. He was still lying on the floor where he'd fallen. He gently touched his jaw. And quickly pulled his head away when sharp pain flared up from the numerous backhanded slaps. It was always with the back of his hand. It was like he couldn't touch Dean.

Dean slowly got to his feet shakily. He staggered a little and reached out to the wall to steady himself.

"So you're finally awake," said a stern voice followed by the slam of the front door and Dean spun around.

John walked towards him and Dean instinctively moved backwards, his bandaged left arm covering his injured ribs. John backed Dean up until he was flat against the wall. John used his height to intimidate him a bit before spitting out, "Pack your stuff we're leaving in ten minutes."

John then pushed past Dean and into the kitchen to collect their things. Dean let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and limped slowly to his and Sam's bedroom. Oh no, wait, that was just his bedroom now.

He stuffed his clothes into his duffel bag, not bothering to fold them or roll them. He just wanted to get the hell out of the motel room. And never see the damn place again. He looked over to see Sam's half of the room. Should he take the clothes? Sam's things?

"You can just leave his stuff there for the next guests,' came a voice from the hall. Dean's eyes shot up to see his father in the doorway.

"But it's"-

"I said leave it," John said, his eyes getting hard. "Don't make me say it again." He brought his right hand up slightly as if to emphasize his point. Dean shrank back and nodded, mumbling something.

"What was that?"

"Yes sir," Dean said, his eyes on the floor. John left and Dean heard the door open as he loaded more stuff into the Impala outside.

Even after what his dad said, Dean grabbed a couple of things and stuffed them in his bag. He collected the rest of his things and made a stop in the bathroom for his toothbrush. He caught a look at his face. It was a mess. Bruises dotted his jaw and cheekbones. There was a small cut above his left eye and it looked as if at one point both his nose and the side of his mouth had had blood trickling from them. He gave his face a quick wash before leaving the motel room for good.

He got into the passenger side of the waiting Chevrolet, John at the wheel.

"Get some rest. We're driving to Indiana tonight," John said.

"Yes sir," said Dean.

Sam might have remembered that night as the night he had the biggest argument he'd ever had with his father and had then left to go to university with the promise to never see the two of them again. Dean remembered the night as the night Sam left and he got beaten to hell by his drunk angry father.


	2. Figure in the Shadows

Secrets

**THEN**

"_Get some rest. We're driving to Indiana tonight," John said. _

"_Yes sir," said Dean. _

_Sam might have remembered that night as the night he had the biggest argument he'd ever had with his father and had then left to go to university with the promise to never see the two of them again. Dean remembered the night as the night Sam left and he got beaten to hell by his drunk angry father. _

**NOW**

Figure in the Shadows

Sam opened his eyes as soon as he heard footsteps in their small apartment. He got out of bed gently so as not to wake Jess and crept out of the bedroom. He saw a figure moving through the shadows and took the opportunity.

He launched himself at the figure knocking him to the ground and managed to force him two punches to the ribs before the figure called out his name in a scarily familiar voice.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Sam got up off the floor and turned the light on to see his brother sprawled where Sam had knocked him. Sam turned away and sighed, running a hand through his hair. Dean slowly got up off the floor and Sam wondered if maybe he was hurt.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked watching as Dean pulled his jacket straight revealing a leaner frame than Sam remembered.

"Well, I was looking for you," Dean replied with a small smile.

"Why?"

"We need to talk."

"Uh, the phone?"

"No we gotta"- Dean was cut off when a leggy blonde walked in.

"Hey, Sam, what's going on?"

Sam looked slightly nervous. "Uh, Jess, this is my brother, Dean."

"How'd you get that shiner?" Jess asked. It was then that Sam noticed a slowly fading bruise on Dean's jaw.

"I had, uh, an issue with…Sam, I gotta talk to you now." He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him outside the apartment, down the stairs to the street. "Sam I need your help, Dad's gone missing"-

"So?" Sam said nonchalantly.

"What do you mean, 'So?' he's been gone for almost three weeks, Sam I"-

"He always goes missing, he's probably up in some hick town with Jim, Jack and José," said Sam.

"You don't know the half of it," Dean muttered.

"What?" said Sam, his temper rising.

"Nothin', look, in the three years I never bothered you except to call you to see if you were still kicking, alright? I protected you from so goddamn much when you were at home and this is how you repay me?" Dean said. He was just glad that it was dark and Sam couldn't see the pleading in his eyes. "Come on, do this for me would you?"

"Where did he say he was going?"

"Clarksdale, its this place like three hours south east from here. Woman in White," Dean said. "He said he'd only be gone a week while I was finishing up some poltergeist and he didn't come back and he didn't call."

"Ok, fine. But no longer than a week. I got an…interview on Monday."

"What for?"

"Doesn't matter, but its important, ok, I can't miss it."

"Fine. We'll be back in a week, I promise."


	3. Scars

Secrets

Disclaimer: don't own nothin'

**THEN**

_"Where did he say he was going?"_

_"Clarksdale, its this place like three hours south east from here. Woman in White," Dean said. "He said he'd only be gone a week while I was finishing up some poltergeist and he didn't come back and he didn't call."_

_"Ok, fine. But no longer than a week. I got an…interview on Monday."_

_"What for?"_

_"Doesn't matter, but its important, ok, I can't miss it."_

_"Fine. We'll be back in a week, I promise."_

**NOW**

Scars

_One Week Later_

Sam and Dean had checked into some hick town's motel to try and get rid of the recent memories of Sam's girlfriend dying in the fire. Sam was shocked, he expected to stay with Jess for the rest of his life, a maybe unrealistic idea, but one that never got the chance. Dean felt incredibly guilty for dragging Sam away while his cute girl was being torched just like their mom.

Sam just sat motionless on one of the two single beds in the room, watching as his watch ticked over from 10.01 pm to 10.02 pm. The water stopped running in the bathroom and a couple minutes later Dean walked out quietly in boxers. He quickly put on a t-shirt.

"Hey, what are all those scars from?" Sam asked.

"Oh, you know, hunts, I guess," Dean replied. "I don't really remember."

"Well, what's that one from?" Sam said pointing to a long, thin scar on Dean's left forearm.

Dean thought quickly on his feet and then said, "This spirit threw me into a full length mirror."

"Damn. Hurt like Hell?"

"Hurt like Hell." Dean nodded.

"What about that burn on your side?"

Dean pulled his shirt up slightly so that Sam could see a burn on his left side. "Poltergeist with a hot poker."

"Jeez. I missed a lot huh?"

"Yeah, could've used you in some of those hunts," said Dean. _Yeah, so I wasn't alone with Dad when he got drunk and angry. _

"I couldn't stay with Dad, you know that," said Sam. "I wanted to go to college. I wanted a life, a different life."

"Well, I guess I didn't have a choice," said Dean quietly, laying back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"What do you mean you didn't have choice? Of course you had a choice," Sam said firmly.

"Well, Dad needed someone to watch his back." _Well, Dad needed someone to take his anger out on and I didn't want him to go after you. _

"What so he can find that goddamn demon?"

"Yeah. It's still out there Sammy."

"Don't call me that, and I don't care if it's still out there. I'm not gonna lose anymore of my family to that demon."

"Yeah, well, that's what killing it will achieve," said Dean. "We just gotta find Dad, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"G'night Sammy."

"Night."

The lights went out and both brothers lay in the dark, staring into space. Sam thought about the missed opportunities with Jess. Dean meanwhile thought about the reception they'd get from their father when they finally caught up with him. He wasn't thinking about it positively.


	4. The Truth

Secrets

Disclaimer: don't own nothin'

**THEN**

"_Yeah. It's still out there Sammy."_

"_Don't call me that, and I don't care if it's still out there. I'm not gonna lose anymore of my family to that demon."_

"_Yeah, well, that's what killing it will achieve," said Dean. "We just gotta find Dad, okay?"_

"_Yeah, whatever."_

"_G'night Sammy."_

"_Night."_

_The lights went out and both brothers lay in the dark, staring into space. Sam thought about the missed opportunities with Jess. Dean meanwhile thought about the reception they'd get from their father when they finally caught up with him. He wasn't thinking about it positively. _

**NOW**

The Truth

"Dean, I can't take this anymore, I gotta leave."

Dean eased the Impala over to the shoulder of the road and took the key out of the ignition as he weathered the storm coming from the passenger side.

"Dean, are you listening to me!' Sam shouted, making Dean cringe.

"Yeah, I'm listening, Sammy," Dean said quietly.

"Don't call me that damn name anymore Dean! I've had enough of this goddamn hunting! You think you're indestructible and you just go in guns blazing, getting kidnapped and almost becoming scarecrow and wendigo food! I can't take it anymore, if you're gonna stand in between any evil son of a bitch and me then I gotta leave, I can't stand to see you hurt all the time!"

"Are you finished?" Dean asked, again quietly.

"No, I'm not!" Sam yanked open the door and slammed it shut making Dean flinch. Dean followed suit and found Sam grabbing his duffel bag from the trunk.

"Sam, you can't leave. You gotta watch out for me, like you said. And I, I gotta watch out for you, okay. I gotta protect you from"-

"From what, Dean?" Sam interrupted. "From the poltergeists and shtrigas and werewolves and whatever else? Because I gotta tell you, Dean, you're not the only one with scars from them."

"Sam, come on, buddy, I watched out for you for so long. I protected you from all that and more, Sam," Dean almost pleaded.

"What did you protect me from, Dean? What?" he demanded. He stalked up to Dean, towering over him.

"I…I protected you from…"

"That's what I thought Dean. Good bye." Sam spun around and started to walk.

Dean reached out for his brother's shoulder. "Sam"-

He was cut off when the back of Sam's hand connected with his face. It sent him crashing into the side of the Impala and then onto the ground.

"Oh God, Dean, I'm so sorry," Sam said, instantly regretting his actions. He reached out for Dean but his brother jerked away. It was only then that Sam caught the look of fear in his brother's eyes. The look of a caged, beaten animal.

"Dean?"

"You wanna know what I protected you from, Sam?" Dean said, his voice incredibly soft and shaky, nothing like his usual voice. "I protected you from Dad."

"What?" Sam said. He sat down slowly next to Dean, leaning up against the car.

"Every time I did something, or you did something, even the least bit wrong, he'd beat the Hell out of me."

"What? But I only ever saw him hit you once," Sam said, not believing this revelation.

"Yeah, cause after that, I made him promise never to hit you or tell you."

"Why didn't you want me knowing?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I dunno, one of us had to remain innocent I guess."

"Dean, why didn't you tell me?"

"You don't understand do you?" Dean said. His gaze was focused straight in front of him, into the night's darkness. "He's our father. He got drunk or angry. He always said he was sorry. Something would just set him off. We'd have a bad hunt, or we'd be running out of money, or it'd be"- Dean cut himself off.

"It'd be what?"

"It'd be the anniversary of Mom's…anyway, he got drunk and angry. He would use his belt."

"He whipped you with his belt?" Sam didn't believe what Dean was saying.

"With the buckle end," Dean added.

Dean turned his back to Sam and pulled his shirt up so Sam could see his bare back. Sam bit back a gasp as he saw the scars criss-crossing his back. He could see old, faded ones and some that seemed about a month and half old or so. Dean pulled his shirt back down and leaned back against the car.

"Dean, why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Cause I made Dad promise that he'd never hurt you on the condition that I never told you," Dean said.

"Dean, when did he stop?" Sam asked.

Dean was silent, he didn't move.

'When did he stop?"

Dean still didn't say anything.

"Goddamnit, answer me! When did he stop?" Sam all but shouted at him.

Dean still didn't say anything but gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"He didn't stop," Sam said. Then he remembered something. "That bruise, when you picked me up. That was from him wasn't it?" He already knew the answer but he wanted Dean to confirm it. Dean nodded.

"How hard did he hit you? You said he'd been gone for three weeks."

"I was knocked out for two days after he kicked me in the face and then slammed my head into the wall several times. He kindly left me a note to say where he'd disappeared to," Dean said haltingly.

Sam sat in silence for a couple of minutes while he tried to comprehend all of this new knowledge. "All those times you came back from hunts with cuts and bruises. That was Dad?"

"Most of it."

"When did he start whipping you with his belt?"

But Dean had had enough. "Sam, I'm done talking about this alright?"

"I don't think you understand Dean. This abuse"- Dean cringed at the word – "cause that's what it is, abuse, Dean, went on for what ten years at least and now you wanna go and find the son of a bitch that did this to you?"

Dean brought his knees up and hugged them not wanting to participate in the conversation any longer.

"Sam, we're talking about Dad here. And yes, we gotta find him alright."

Sam raised his hand and Dean jerked back instinctively again. "Jeez, Dean. I can't even put my hand on your shoulder cause of what he did to you. You used to be my big, strong brother. You're a shadow of the Dean that I knew."

"Yeah well, hunting doesn't exactly pay for three course meals. We're finding Dad, Sam."

"I'm not gonna go and bring back the very person who did this to you, Dean!" Sam shouted at his brother.

"Sam, we gotta"-

"He abused you! He hit you with his fucking belt not two months ago and now you wanna go and bring his sorry ass back here? What the hell's gotten into you?" Sam shouted at the top of his voice.

And suddenly it wasn't Sam shouting at him, it was John, hitting him, telling him he was worthless, the smell of tequila on his breath.

He whispered something that Sam didn't hear.

"What?" Sam said, a little bit too harshly, his temper still raised.

"I'm sorry, Sam. We don't have to find him. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry I got you upset, I didn't mean to," he said, his voice soft.

Suddenly Sam realised what had happened. He'd acted exactly the way he'd seen their Dad act before Dean told him to go upstairs or into the bedroom or somewhere else to wait for him. Right before John beat him.

"I'm sorry Dean. I didn't mean to shout at you."

"It's okay. It was my fault, I'm sorry."

"No Dean, it was Dad's fault. It was never your fault and don't you forget it," Sam said strongly.

"Whatever, Sammy." There was a pause then Dean added, "I was sixteen."

"What?"

"When he pulled out his belt for the first time. I'd dropped out of school, so you weren't around. You'd never know."

Sam sighed softly. "You wanna go find someone who's been hitting you with his belt for at least ten years? How d'you know he's not gonna do it when we find him?"

"I dunno, we just gotta trust him I guess."

"This isn't sounding like a good idea," Sam warned.

"I don't care. We've got a lead, we're gonna damn well follow it." Dean got up a little shakily and opened the driver's side door of the Impala. "Unless you're still uh…"

"I'm not leaving him along with you again. I'm coming."

Both the brothers got into the Chevrolet and Dean turned the key in the ignition, the loud engine rumbling to life.

"You gotta promise me that when we find him you don't immediately go for the jugular," Dean said sternly.

"Fine."


	5. That One Time

Secrets

Disclaimer: don't own nothin'

**THEN**

"_This isn't sounding like a good idea__," Sam warned. _

"_I don't care. We've got a lead, we're gonna damn well follow it." Dean got up a little shakily and opened the driver's side door of the Impala. "Unless you're still uh…"_

"_I'm not leaving him along with you again. I'm coming." _

_Both the brothers got into the Chevrolet and Dean turned the key in the ignition, the loud engine rumbling to life._

"_You gotta promise me that when we find him you don't immediately go for the jugular," Dean said sternly. _

"_Fine."_

**NOW**

**FLASHBACK**

Dean stumbled to his bed, half-unconscious. He was exhausted. Not only did the damn werewolf throw him around but John saw fit to slap him around as well. Suddenly he heard footsteps. He forced his eyes to open and saw John standing over him. His father grabbed his hair tight making him flinch.

"D'you know what time it is?" his father asked harshly.

"No," Dean said, his teeth gritted as his father tightened his grip.

"It's nine in the morning. Your brother's coming home from school at four. You gotta watch him cause I won't be home till late. You got all that?"

"Yes sir."

John released his grip on Dean and shoved his head down making Dean's mind spin. Dean blearily registered the sound of his father's footsteps through the small apartment, the slam of the door and then nothing. Literally nothing as he slumped in his bed, exhausted.

Hours later, Dean awoke to the sound of keys jingling and then footsteps. He pushed himself up from the bed. His muscles ached from staying in the same position but the bruises had lost their initial stinging pain.

Sam walked into the bedroom and caught sight of his nineteen-year-old brother sitting on his bed, running a hand over his face.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up. "Hey Sammy. How was school?"

"Alright, I guess. How was the hunt?"

"It was…good," said Dean stretching his arms.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I mean we got the werewolf, you know, silver bullet"-

-"straight to the heart," finished Sam.

"Yep that's right kid."

"When will I be able to go on hunts Dean?"

Dean suddenly had an image of his father stalking up to him, the dead werewolf lying on the ground. "Goddamnit Dean! Why the hell you take so long to shoot it? Goddamn worthless son!" John shouted before backhanding him.

"Dean?"

"Ah, yeah, Sammy, I dunno, I guess when you get your reflexes into gear," Dean stammered. "I mean, the wolf was this far away when I pulled the trigger."

"Cool, man."

Dean couldn't help but smile at the happy face of his fifteen-year-old brother. Dean yawned before saying, "So, what's doing? Pick up any cute chicks today?"

"Well actually, I have a favour to ask," said Sam, choosing his words carefully. "Dad's gonna be home late right?"

"What else is new?"

"So, some of my friends from school were gonna catch a movie tonight. I was, you know, wondering if I could go?"

_Damn_, thought Dean. _This sure is a tricky one_.

"I…I don't know Sammy. I don't know what time Dad's getting back. What time does this all start?"

"Movie starts at five."

"You'll be back before nine, yeah?"

"Yeah, 'course."

"How're you getting there?'

"I've got a ride sorted."

"As long as you're home before nine, promise me?" Dean said praying to God that John never got wind of this.

"Yeah, Dean I got that."

"Ok, have fun then. I'm going back to sleep."

It was just Dean's luck that his father was home early at eight-thirty. He barged into the kitchen to find a just-woken Dean getting a glass of water.

"Where's your brother?"

Dean froze at the voice behind him and turned around slowly.

"Uh, he's out, Dad," he said nervously.

"Why?" John's voice was laced with anger.

"Because I, uh, let him out. He said he'd be back before nine."

"Well, we'll see about that. If he's not, you're getting it."

Dean swallowed, trying to push down the fear John caused in him. It was alright when he was beaten for something he'd done. But when it was something Sam had done, John really lay into him. John knew Dean's weakness was Sam and that seeing Sam in pain from being beaten, but Dean seeing Sam in pain from watching his brother get beaten was worse.

"We just gotta wait then," said John.

Dean walked stiffly into the lounge room and sat down in one of the old armchairs. He inadvertently shivered and his breath hitched when he heard the fridge door open and the sound of a bottle being opened. John returned to the lounge room, beer in hand.

The minutes ticked by, nine became nine-thirty and nine-thirty became ten. Until finally at a quarter to eleven Sam tried to unlock the door and walk into the apartment softly. Sam stopped in his tracks when he was met by the sight of his brother, eyes on the floor and his father polishing off a bottle of beer, with three empty bottles sitting next to him.

"Good evening, Sam. Nice of you to join us," said John.

"I…I thought you'd be home late," Sam stuttered. He looked across at Dean.

_I don't know why the hell he's home early_, Dean tried to convey to his brother.

"Well, surprise. I wasn't home late. I was home, how long ago Dean?"

Dean swallowed and his dry voice croaked out, "Two hours, fifteen minutes."

"I'm sorry, Dad, I"-

John slammed his bottle on the floor which silenced Sam.

"Well, Sam, do you know who's fault this is?"

Sam was speechless. "I…uh…"

"Do you know who's going to get punished for this?"

Sam didn't understand until he saw Dean's reaction. Dean had suddenly bowed his head, his eyes back on the floor. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but John answered his own question.

"Dean."

"No, Dad, you can't its not"-

"Dean's fault?" John said. "No, it's not Dean's fault, you're absolutely right. And that's why when you sit there and watch me beat the hell out of your innocent brother over here"- his words made Dean flinch –"you're gonna wish you'd never have left and you know what? Because of this, you'll never do it again will you?"

"Dad, please it's not Dean's fault, it's mine, punish me, I'm the one who did the wrong thing," pleaded Sam.

"Yes, but Sam, that's fair. What I'm going to do isn't fair which means it will make you feel bad. And guilty. And that'll mean you'll never do anything wrong again. Now _sit down_," he ordered.

Sam dejectedly walked over to the musty old couch. Dean didn't look at him, afraid that the fear he was feeling would show in his eyes if he did.

John got up off the chair he was sitting in, and walked casually over to Dean. He stopped in front of him and Dean looked up into the icy glare of his father's eyes before John grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair and pulled him to his feet. Without warning he backhanded him making him stagger backwards. Three more hits and Dean fell to the floor. John kicked him in the ribs.

Sam watched with tears in his eyes as his father beat his brother because of something he'd done wrong. Finally after at least ten minutes of this, John stopped.

Dean was on the floor gasping for breath and Sam's eyes were glued to his brother's scrunched up ones.

"Both of you stay where you are, don't move an inch," growled John. He stormed away.

"Dean?" Sam whispered.

Dean's eyes opened and Sam could see they were glassy and bloodshot. Dean caught a look at Sam's tearstained face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered back hoarsely.

Just then, John returned with a leather belt in his hand.

"Dad what the hell are you"-

"Enough, Sam, you seem to be forgetting that this is all your fault."

John used his belt sparingly, only ten blows or so, but each caused a gasp from Dean and a flinch from Sam. At last John was done.

"Both of you get out of my sight," he said. "Tomorrow I gotta go and work a job. I should be back by Friday."

"But that's a whole week," Sam said. "What are we gonna do for food?"

"You'll think of something. Now get yourself and your worthless brother gone."

Sam took one last look at his father stalking into the kitchen before crouching down next to his brother.

"Dean?"

Dean groaned softly.

"He's gone. Come on, let me help you up."

**PRESENT DAY**

"And that was only one time? He did that to you often?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged.

"Goddamnit Dean!"

Dean flinched slightly, causing the Impala to jerk. "Sam"-

"No, I cannot believe it. That time was so bad, I thought you were…I mean – you didn't wake up until the next night. It took weeks for some of that bruising to go fade."

"Yeah, I know Sam, it's just"-

"Just what? 'He's our father'?"

Dean was silent.

"I'm gonna make him pay. For what he did to you. I'm gonna"-

"Don't Sam," Dean said. His voice was soft almost weak. "Please don't."

"Why not?"

"Because we're here."

"Where?"

"That place. I forget what it's called. It's where that asylum is."


	6. Asylum

Secrets

Disclaimer: don't own nothin'

**Sorry it took so long! But it's back and better than ever. **

**THEN**

"_And that was only one time? He did that to you often?" Sam asked._

_Dean shrugged. _

"_Goddamnit Dean!"_

_Dean flinched slightly, causing the Impala to jerk. "Sam"-_

"_No, I cannot believe it. That time was so bad, I thought you were…I mean – you didn't wake up until the next night. It took weeks for some of that bruising to go fade."_

"_Yeah, I know Sam, it's just"-_

"_Just what? 'He's our father'?"_

_Dean was silent. _

"_I'm gonna make him pay. For what he did to you. I'm gonna"-_

"_Don't Sam," Dean said. His voice was soft almost weak. "Please don't."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because we're here."_

"_Where?"_

"_That place. I forget what it's called. It's where that asylum is."_

**NOW**

**ASYLUM**

Sam turned away from the two kids they'd found in the asylum and pulled out his phone. Dean's number flashed on the screen. 

"Hey," he answered.

"Sam, it's me," Dean said. "I see it. It's comin' at me."

"Where are you?" Sam said automatically tightening his grip on the sawn-off in his hand. 

"In the basement. Hurry up!"

"I'm on my way," Sam said. He hung up and turned back to the kids. "All right. Can either of you handle a shot gun?"

"What? No," said the boy, Gavin. 

"I can," Kat, his girlfriend said. Gavin looked at her strangely. "My dad took me shooting a couple of times."

"All right, here." Sam handed her a shot gun. "It's loaded with rock salt. Now it may not kill a spirit, but it'll repel it. So if you see something, shoot it."

"Okay," Kat said. 

"Okay," Sam murmured, his mind already on other things. 

"Dean?" Sam walked into another room in the asylum. He couldn't find his brother anywhere. "Dean?" He continued searching but after a couple of minutes, his flashlight went out. He tried tapping it. Nothing worked. He saw a shadow move behind a tattered curtain. Sam pushed the curtain aside. No one was there. Confused, Sam turned around. Suddenly he came face to face with Dr Sanford Ellicott. Ellicott grabbed the sides of Sam's head. Blinding electrical shocks were sent through his body. 

"Don't be afraid, I'm going to make you all better."

"Damnit, damnit! Don't shoot, it's me!" shouted Dean as fragments of the wall crumbled over him from the blast it had taken from Kat's shot gun.

"Sorry," Kat said, approaching him.

Dean looked up at the two of them. "What are you two still doin' here? Where's Sam?"

"He went to the basement. You called him," Gavin replied. 

"I didn't call him."

"His cell phone rang. He said it was you," Kat said. 

"Basement huh?"

"I told you, I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room," Sam said. 

"Well that's why they call it hidden." Dean started searching the place they were in for any drafts, beams of light. He was feeling a little calmer now that he'd found his little brother. "You hear that?"

"What?"

Dean was crouched down, examining the gap in the wall where it met the floor. "There's a door here."

Behind him, Sam had raised his shot gun. His eyes held an undeniable look of anger. 

"Dean. Step back from the door." Sam's nose began to bleed and he wiped the blood away. 

Dean stood up and stiffened when he saw the shot gun aimed squarely at his chest.

"Sam put the gun down." 

"Is that an order?" Sam sneered. 

"No, it's more of a friendly request." Something had happened to Sam. One of the spirits, Ellicott, something. He just hoped it didn't do too much damage to Sam. Or himself. 

"Cause I'm getting pretty tired of takin' your orders."

"I knew it, Ellicott did something to you," said Dean hoping to wake the real Sam up from wherever he was. 

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth, Dean," Sam said. Dean had to look twice at his brother cause at that moment he was sure it was his father talking. "That's the thing, isn't it Dean? I remind you of him. I remind you of all those times he beat you. All the times he told you not to tell me because then I'd be tainted as well. All those times, you thought you could keep it all to yourself. You can't keep anything to yourself, Dean. All it takes is for a helping hand like Dr Ellicott here and I can see everything. I know everything about you, Dean. You and Dad. Not a secret anymore, Dean." 

Dean's eyes were on the floor, he didn't even have the strength to face his baby brother any more. 

Sam shoved the barrel of the shot gun into his chest making Dean wince. "What are you gonna do, Sam? The gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me." Gone was the cocky, confident voice of Dean. In it's place was an automatic taunt that had almost no energy behind it. 

"No but it'll hurt like hell," said Sam pulling the trigger. 

Dean awoke with a gasp. His chest felt like it was being weighed down by a freakin' bear or something. And yes, Sam was right. It did hurt like hell.

"Sam! We gotta burn Ellicott's bones, and all this'll be over. You'll be back to normal," he said in between gasps. 

"I _am _normal. I'm just tellin' the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Because you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? 'Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you _that_ desperate for his approval? Are you that desperate for one month without him hitting you?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam," Dean said, wishing it was true. 

"This is the difference between you and me," Sam said. "I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic like you." He struck Dean across the face with the butt of his shot gun. Dean flinched. The hit wasn't enough to knock him out but his jaw throbbed and there'd be a bruise there tomorrow. "If my father was beating me I wouldn't stick around him."

"I had to Sam," Dean said, sounding defeated. 

"You didn't have to. You had a choice."

"I was protecting you! For God's sake Sam, stop this!"

Sam hit Dean again with the shot gun, in the same place. A trickle of blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth. 

"So what are you gonna do, Sam? You gonna kill me?"

"You know I'm sick of you tellin' me what to do. You tell me that Dad beat you for over fifteen years and now you wanna go find him! What the hell is wrong with you. I'm sick of you. I've had enough."

"Well then, here. Let me make it easy for you," Dean said, handing Sam a pistol. "Go on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!"

Sam grabbed the gun from Dean and dropped his shot gun on the floor. He pointed the gun directly at Dean. 

"You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother?" Dean didn't believe it. He didn't know what Ellicott had done to Sam but it didn't seem to have good outcomes for him. "Then go ahead. Pull the trigger." Sam waited, his finger on the trigger. "Do it!" Sam pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. Nothing happened. He tried again and again, but nothing happened. While Sam was distracted by the gun, Dean grabbed him and threw him to the ground. He stood up, almost shaking from the pain. "Man I'm not gonna give you a loaded pistol." He knocked Sam out. "Sorry Sammy. 


	7. What Aren't You Telling Me?

Man, sorry it's taken so long

**Man, sorry it's taken so long. Been a bit tied up…**

**THEN**

_Sam grabbed the gun from Dean and dropped his shot gun on the floor. He pointed the gun directly at Dean._

"_You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother?" Dean didn't believe it. He didn't know what Ellicott had done to Sam but it didn't seem to have good outcomes for him. "Then go ahead. Pull the trigger." Sam waited, his finger on the trigger. "Do it!" Sam pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. Nothing happened. He tried again and again, but nothing happened. While Sam was distracted by the gun, Dean grabbed him and threw him to the ground. He stood up, almost shaking from the pain. "Man I'm not gonna give you a loaded pistol." He knocked Sam out. "Sorry Sammy._

**NOW**

What Aren't You Telling Me?

**FLASHBACK**

John heard the knock at the door and stopped. He looked down at his shivering son on the floor and jabbed him in the ribs with the toe of his boot, making him gasp.

"Put a shirt on. Answer the door."

His son obeyed and with just a t-shirt and jeans on, opened the front door to the winter chill. And to Sam

"What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, nice to see you too, Dean," said Sam. "I came to check up on you. Heard you were in town."

"From who?" Dean asked.

"Bobby called – Dean, aren't you cold?" He said, his eyes taking in his brother's shaking form. Sam had on at least three layers and was still a little icy.

"What? Yes." Dean's mind was having a hard time comprehending what his brother was saying, as bruises were coming up on his temple and jaw.

"Uh, so, can I come in or is Dad"-

"Dean!" Sam's brother flinched at the harsh sound of their father's voice. "Who's there?"

Sam saw his father walk up to the door and shove Dean away, Dean throwing out a hand to the wall to keep his balance.

"Why, hell, Sammy, so nice of you to drop by, why don't you come in?" Sam stepped inside and John closed the door. "Me and Dean were right of the middle of something but we can get back to that later, can't we boy?"

He gave Dean a nudge to the ribs which seemed to bring him back to the reality he'd drifted slightly away from. "Uh, yes sir," he mumbled.

John headed off to what Sam guessed to be the lounge room and Dean stumbled to what appeared to be the kitchen, Sam made the obvious choice and followed his brother.

The light from the fridge burned Dean's eyes as he pulled out three bottles of beer, but he ignored it.

"Back in a minute," Dean said softly, taking one of the bottles reluctantly to his father.

"Don't be too long with your brother, I know what you're thinking," Sam heard John order. Sam could barely believe it and tried to hold back from laughing, the man really did think he had himself and Dean on such short leashes and that they were just going to give in to him.

"Yes sir," came the ever-present reply from Dean and he came back into the kitchen.

The two brothers were silent until, "How's the hunt going?"

"Fine," replied Dean. "Got rid of a poltergeist and a werewolf's still in town s'all."

He didn't seem to want to meet Sam's eyes and to Sam, instead of bright greenish-hazel, they were tired and bloodshot.

"Dean, are you okay? I mean"-

"Sure, he's okay." Sam looked up to see John enter the room. "He's just got the flu, nearly got us killed tonight. That's why we've got to stay another night in this damn place to get that werewolf."

"What do you mean 'stay another night'?" said Sam angrily. It sounded as if their father was trying to justify something and it didn't sound right. "Dean should be resting if he's sick, not out hunting werewolves. What are you thinking, Dad?"

"Sam, don't you talk to me like that, you know perfectly well the dangers a werewolf brings."

"Dad," warned Dean. He didn't like where this was heading. He knew Sam was only trying to help, but…

"What about the danger of having the hunter meant to watch your back sick with the flu?"

"Sam, you better watch your mouth."

Dean's eyes saw John's hand raise before Sam's, and he grabbed it. "Dad, come on, let's just all cool it, please."

"You too?" John said furiously. Those three beers hadn't done nothing for him. "You think you can speak to me like that?" John threatened. "Well if it can't be Sam, then it may as well be you."

"What"- Sam's was cut off when John's hand hit the side of Dean's face. His brother staggered under the blow but didn't fall. Instead he just sat back down and silently wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Dad, what the hell!" shouted Sam. "I think we're a bit old for that now."

"I think I'll decide that," John shot back.

"Sam, sit down, come on," Dean said. "Let's not make it any more worse."

"How much more worse can this get?" Sam replied, his comment directed at John.

"Sam sit down," Dean repeated. "Dad why don't you just leave Sammy alone, huh?"

John rounded on Dean. "Boy, don't you take that tone with me," he said fiercely. He grabbed Dean's jaw pulling him out of the chair and tugged his head so that he was Dean was facing his father, whose fingers were well on their to giving Dean more bruises.

"If it weren't for you, we would've caught that damn thing." He shoved Dean away.

With one hand rubbing his aching jaw, Dean mumbled the expected reply, the one Sam heard all too often, "Yes sir."

"Look Dad, why don't you just leave us and I'll…I'll promise to stay here and watch your back tomorrow night if Dean is still sick, okay?" Sam offered.

"Fine, do what you want," John said. "And you," he turned to Dean, whose eyes were on the floor, "speak to me like that again and two hits to the face will just be the start."

Dean looked up, "Two?", just in time to feel his father's fist connect with his cheekbone. He feel to the floor and whilst there, spoke the reply that Sam always had hated, "Yes sir."

Their father stalked from the room and Sam rushed to Dean's side and helped him back into the chair. His brother was silent and refused to meet Sam's eyes.

"What aren't you telling me, Dean?"


	8. Some Father

**THEN**

_Dean looked up, "Two?", just in time to feel his father's fist connect with his cheekbone. He feel to the floor and whilst there, spoke the reply that Sam always had hated, "Yes sir."_

_Their father stalked from the room and Sam rushed to Dean's side and helped him back into the chair. His brother was silent and refused to meet Sam's eyes. _

"_What aren't you telling me, Dean?"_

**NOW**

Some Father

Dean sat in silence trying to focus on the Impala's engine purring down the road. His chest was aching and the back of his head was stinging like nothing else. Probably from having been thrown through a false wall. By the blast of a shotgun filled with rock salt. Held by his twisted brother.

He shook away those thoughts and tried to concentrate on the now. He was dead tired and just wanted to find a bed, even if it was in some dingy town in Illinois. He wanted to drive south, away from the cold. He'd never really liked the cold. He'd always wanted-

"Dean!"

"What?" Dean jumped and looked over at his brother in the passenger seat. "What is it?"

"I, sorry, I just found myself talking to a brick wall."

"Huh?"

"We were talking about that time, you know when you and Dad were in California with that werewolf. You were about to say something and then you just drifted off," Sam said.

"Oh, sorry, uh…"

"I asked you how you got sick in the first place."

"Uh…I dunno, Sammy, I uh don't think I remember," Dean replied. Truth was, he remembered. And remembered all too clearly exactly why he'd gotten sick but he wasn't in the mood to relay those facts over to Sam.

"Man, you are hiding something from me. I wanna know," Sam pressed. "If it was cause of Dad I'm gonna"-

"I can't remember Sam," Dean repeated more forcefully than before.

"You can, you just don't wanna tell me. It was about Dad wasn't it."

Dean really felt like pulling over right at that moment and kicking Sam out of the car, locking the doors and falling asleep on the backseat. He didn't really want to think about how falling asleep on the backseat of an old car in the middle of winter had led to Bon Scott's death.

"I don't want you to think of Dad as some kind of"-

"Monster?" Sam interrupted. "Cause, don't worry, I already think of him as one."

"Yeah, well most aren't born, they're created by circumstance," said Dean, remembering the words of someone probably old and wise and nameless.

"Why won't you tell me?" Sam said. "I mean, come on, do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Sam"-

"If you had just been waiting in line at a gas station and some sick old woman had sneezed in your face and given you the flu, then you'd just tell me right? If Bobby had come over and coughed on you and given you the flu, you'd tell me. So, what happened and why won't you"-

"Okay, it was Dad's fault!" Dean finally gave in. God his brother was so much like their father sometimes. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Sam didn't say anything. He wanted Dean to elaborate, but Dean wasn't really in the elaborating mood. So Sam settled for sitting there staring at his brother.

"What?"

"Go on."

"What?"

"I want to know. Tell me," Sam said, but to Dean it sounded too much like an order and his tired mind could do nothing but comply with an order, be it from Sam, or John…

"I stuffed up on the poltergeist gig we had before. I can't really remember what I'd done. It wasn't a life-threatening screw-up but to Dad it was a screw-up nonetheless. So he made me kneel out back for three hours in a t-shirt at night. That's how I got sick. That's why I couldn't hunt a werewolf the next night to save my life. That's why he beat me up the night you came knocking."

Sam was quiet. He was in shock. Shock that was quickly turning to anger.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" Dean repeated, his voice quiet and defeated.

"For God's sake Dean, of course that _not_ what I wanted to hear!" Sam said, his voice having returned to him. "But it's along the lines of what I expected to hear."

"Why do you want to know so much about this?" Dean asked quietly, his eyes staring holes into the blacktop.

"I…it's just, well, you never told me about any of this," Sam said. He seemed to have been thrown by Dean's question. Well, maybe not by the question but by the broken sound of his voice. "There's just so much that I didn't know about. I just wish you'd talk about it. I mean, if I knew then maybe we might have stopped Dad."

"That wouldn't work," replied Dean, scanning the side of the empty road for any signs of life, a motel, something.

"Why not?"

"It just…he would…it just doesn't work that way, Sam."

"Well which way does it work, huh, Dean?" Sam didn't know where all the anger in his voice was coming from. He was angry at Dean, for not telling him, for standing up for John, for letting himself get carried away by that damn spirit at the Asylum. He didn't find himself stopping his tirade though. "Which way does it work? You say one wrong word and snap! His fist hits your face? His boot kicks your ribs? His belt lays into your back?" shouted Sam.

Dean was silent then, "You wanna stop acting like him and maybe I might reconsider talking about what he did," he said quietly.

Sam took a breath and lent his head against the window staring at the road. He was tired. It had been a long night and he just wanted to sleep for a while. He knew Dean felt the same. He had noticed the almost inaudible gasps and the involuntary way he raised his hand to his chest every time they hit a pothole.

"I'm sorry Dean, it's just I feel like it's my fault that Dad beat you. I mean, if you hadn't made him promise not to hit me, a promise which I'm sure you know he broke a couple times, then I'm know you wouldn't have been hurt so often."

"Sam I don't wanna talk about it right now," Dean said, as his tired eyes finally found a motel with a neon Vacancy sign hanging. "I did what I did to protect you. That's my job and our father never let me forget it. The less he hurt you, the better. That way I could always make sure you were okay. At least, to some extent, he went along with the promise."

"Yeah, some father."


	9. Wrong Place, Wrong Time

**THEN**

"_Sam I don't wanna talk about it right now," Dean said, as his tired eyes finally found a motel with a neon Vacancy sign hanging. "I did what I did to protect you. That's my job and our father never let me forget it. The less he hurt you, the better. That way I could always make sure you were okay. At least, to some extent, he went along with the promise."_

"_Yeah, some father."_

**NOW**

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Dean opened the door to the apartment and just as he was about to flick on the light saw a man-shaped shadow in the window.

"Who's there?" he shouted. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with a goddamn burglar who decided to hang around.

The figure turned around just as Dean switched on the light and there was John standing in front of them. Dean would've liked it to be a no-name burglar as opposed to the man who now stood in front of them.

"Boys," he said, opening his arms. "Dean." The word was spoken like an offer but to Dean's trained ears it was an order. He obeyed and gave his father a hug. "Sam, it's been a long time," said John.

"Yeah," said Sam. He wasn't sure whether or not to hug their father but Dean gave him 'a look' so Sam embraced his father.

"The whole thing, it was a trap, I didn't know, I'm sorry," said Dean.

"I know," said John. "Look, I"-

"Dad, I gotta talk to you," said Sam.

"Sam, not now," said Dean.

"Dean, it's now or never, we might never see _Dad _again," said Sam pointedly.

"I don't care. Not now."

"Dean, what is this about?" John demanded.

"Nothing, sir," Dean replied. He didn't want to start anything, he didn't want to get in the middle of anything, he just didn't like what this was turning into.

"Dean, I asked you a question, boy," John said, his tone getting harsh. He grabbed a hold of Dean's arm and even though Dean was strong he couldn't shake that grip off.

"Sam doesn't know what he's talking about. It's nothing"-

"Dean, how the hell can you say that!" Sam shouted.

"Dean, what is your brother saying!" John shouted, equally as loud. He brought his hand up to Dean's face-

Just as he was thrown backwards. The daevas had found them. All three of them were flung onto walls and the floor, as the shadow claws ripped at their bodies.

Finally just as a set of claws were scraping across his chest, an idea popped into Dean's head. "These things are shadow demons, so let's light 'em up! Cover your eyes!"

He yanked a flare gun from his duffle and fired it right there in the apartment. The demons disintegrated and the three ran from the building into the back lane where both the Impala and John's black truck were parked.

All three were bleeding and Dean was tired as hell. He was completely over demons, man. Sam was not happy. Dean didn't even have to look at his brother to know that.

"Dean..." said Sam. He really wanted to take on their dad right there and then. He knew Dean would never let him.

"Sam, I'm not gonna let you." Dean looked up to his father. John was not happy. Dean only had to glance at his father's icy eyes once to know that.

"Dean, I'm gonna give you one chance, and one chance only to tell me what the hell you two keep talking about."

Dean looked down and didn't answer his father. He knew what was coming. The back of John's hand hit him in the mouth and flung his head to the side. He wiped blood from his mouth and moved his gaze to his father's.

"You know I hate to force something out of you when you're hurt Dean," started John.

"That's a lie and you know it," said Dean under his breath.

"What was that?" John ordered. His son didn't answer him. "What did you say!" John's fingers closed around Dean's jaw and jerked his head up.

"I said, that's a lie. You wouldn't care what condition I was in," said Dean softly. "Whether I'm hurt already or not, it doesn't change a thing."

Sam stood stock still watching the two of them. He hadn't expected Dean to say half the things he'd said in the last two minutes.

John looked like he was just about to blow up. Sam worried for Dean's safety but had no idea what to do. He'd never witnessed anything like this. In his memory, Dean had never stood up for himself.

"Goddamn you worthless boy," said John between gritted teeth. He let go of Dean's jaw and Dean fell back and then fell to the cold ground when John's boot connected with his ribs. Dean landed on the road, winded, his ribs felt cracked. He coughed and blood splattered on the ground.

"I'm leaving. The daevas got the jump on us because we were fighting. I'm not gonna take that risk again," said John. "Do not come looking for me."

Sam watched John stalk away from his sons and the Impala. He got into his truck and fired up the engine speeding off down the back lane without giving them a second glance.

It was then, as Dean coughed again, that Sam realized his brother was still lying, bleeding on the ground. He helped Dean up and even though he offered, Dean insisted on driving. As the Chevrolet sped off in the opposite direction to the one which John had taken, Dean turned to Sam.

"Wrong place, wrong time."


	10. Control

**Hey thanks for the reviews. Sorry, but I decided to change the story round a bit from what it was before. Hope you guys don't mind. More angst in this one. Everyone loves a bit of angst, hey?**

**THEN**

_It was then, as Dean coughed again, that Sam realized his brother was still lying, bleeding on the ground. He helped Dean up and even though he offered, Dean insisted on driving. As the Chevrolet sped off in the opposite direction to the one which John had taken, Dean turned to Sam. _

"_Wrong place, wrong time."_

**NOW**

**Control**

**FLASHBACK**

John knocked a second time on Bobby's front door. Damnit why was he taking so long? John caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and grabbed Dean's collar before his son passed out. He gave his son's shoulder a shake to try and snap him out of it. If he'd known that the ever-present poltergeist was going to be so violent then maybe he wouldn't have been so rough with Dean. But the boy had screwed up. Sure, he'd probably saved John's ass but he wasn't going to say that to Dean.

"John!"

John looked up to see Bobby standing in the doorway. Before he could even say hello to his friend, Dean swayed, his eyes rolling back into his head.

"Jeez, Dean!" Bobby said as he caught the twenty-two year old. "John, what happened?"

"Rough night with a poltergeist," he said by way of explanation. He helped Bobby carry Dean inside and they laid him down on the couch. In the light of the lounge room, Bobby could see the numerous bruises dotting Dean's face. He could see the bloody one on the side of his head that probably led to his being unconscious now.

"He's alright?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, just gotta clean up his face," John said. "He was fine about two hours ago but I figured we should get somewhere safe and clean up then."

"Right." Bobby moved to the kitchen and got a clean cloth and wet it under the tap before bringing it back to the couch. He placed a pillow under Dean's head and then went to work carefully wiping away the blood from Dean's face. There was a lot of blood but experience had taught Bobby that head wounds always led to a lot of blood and that a lot of blood didn't necessarily mean life-threatening.

"Bobby, I can do that," John said watching his friend.

"Nah, I got it. Why don't you just grab a couple of beers."

"Thanks."

After Bobby had finished the two sat down at Bobby's kitchen table with a clear view of the couch.

"So, how's the hunt going?" Bobby asked.

"Not too bad. We had that poltergeist tonight. Nasty thing. I'm pretty damn lucky to not be in the same condition as my boy. Thing just threw all the kitchen knives at us."

"Goddamn, some of those suckers can be a bitch."

"Yeah, had an angry spirit in the same town, the night before. It went kind of..."

"Kind of what?"

"Kind of pear shaped. We'd gone to the house it was in, and it was closed off by the police cause of the murders in there so I told Dean to wait in the car and keep an eye out for the cops. The bones of the spirit were in the basement somewhere so I went in and just as I found them, the thing got the jump on me. So I was trying to hold off this spirit _and _burn the bones and Dean runs in and burns them. I mean, okay, he saved me, but..."

"But what? John?"

"He was supposed to be in the car, watching out for the police."

"But he saved you."

"But he disobeyed an..."

"A what John?"

"An order," John finally told Bobby. He didn't know why he felt he should hold that one word back. He'd said it to Dean and Sam often enough.

"What do you mean, an order?"

"I mean, I...I _ordered_ him to stay in the car. And he didn't. He came in."

"John, Dean's not a soldier. He's not your soldier," said Bobby, keeping his tone neutral. "You're not his commanding officer."

"I know, but"-

"But what?"

"But in our line of work, an order can mean the difference between life and death. You of all people should know that as well," John protested.

"John, you can't control him. He's not yours to control."

"But I can try," said John under his breath.

"What was that?" Bobby challenged.

Before John could answer, the two were suddenly silenced by a soft, pained groan coming from the couch.

They rushed over to Dean's side.

"Dean?" Bobby murmured.

"You in there?" John said a little louder.

Another groan was the reply. Dean's eyelids flickered slightly before his eyes opened. He squinted against the light and Bobby turned it down.

"Dad?"

"Yeah it's me," said John softly. "How you feeling?"

"Like death," Dean replied. He wondered why his father seemed so overly compassionate. He looked up at Bobby's genuinely concerned face. He reached a hand up to gingerly feel the knockout blow on the side of his face.

"Here drink this," said Bobby, pressing a glass of cloudy water into his hand.

"What is it?"

"Just a couple aspirin."

Dean downed the glass and handed it back to Bobby. Just that simple movement seemed to drain his energy.

"Just sleep now, huh," said John.

"Yeah, okay..." Dean drifted off, his eyes closing.

Bobby and John moved to the kitchen and Bobby said softly, "You can't control him."


	11. Scared

**THEN**

_Dean downed the glass and handed it back to Bobby. Just that simple movement seemed to drain his energy._

_"Just sleep now, huh," said John._

_"Yeah, okay..." Dean drifted off, his eyes closing._

_Bobby and John moved to the kitchen and Bobby said softly, "You can't control him."_

**NOW**

**Scared**

Maybe they should have stayed. They could rent a place, Dean could find a job in a nearby workshop, could earn some honest money for a change (and continue hustling pool). And then Sam might be able to have a real relationship again. With Sarah. She seemed nice enough. Maybe-

"Were you ever scared?" Sam's voice broke through Dean's thoughts.

"What? Oh, yeah, I was real scared, I mean, that doll, pretty lifelike," said Dean, taking his eyes off the road to give his brother a grin.

"No I mean about Dad."

"Oh. Was I ever scared of Dad?"

"Yeah. Were you?" Sam pressed.

"Well, I mean, I was scared for your safety. I just, kind of, put up with it, you know, it was like an extra side effect of being your brother," Dean got out. He wasn't sure how to answer the question.

"I mean, were _you _ever scared of Dad?"

Dean silently debated whether or not he really wanted to tell Sam. "I never used to be."

"What before he started hitting you?"

"No, no I never used to be scared of him until he went..."

"What?" asked Sam.

"It was about a year or so after you left and we were in a little town just near Duluth, Minnesota. There was something killing people on the outskirts of town near this wood. We had absolutely no leads but Dad wanted to see what we could do. I can't really remember how it started. I think I said something that riled him up..."

**FLASHBACK**

"Boy, get me a beer," John ordered. The two of them were in a stuffy motel room trying to figure out what evil son-of-a-bitch was killing people.

"There's only one left, Dad, uh maybe you wanna"-

"What the hell are you doing arguing with me?"

"Dad, I didn't mean it, I"-

Dean was cut off when John's fist hit his already blackened right eye and he slammed into the wall and prayed they didn't have neighbours.

"Dad, come on, please, I'll get"-

"Oh I know exactly what you're gonna get, Dean," said John and he grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair. "Now take your damn shirt off."

"Yes sir." Dean pulled his shirt over his head, his back remembering all too well the last time John had gotten angry.

"Now give me your hands," John ordered.

"What?"

"Give me your goddamn hands!"

"Yes sir," mumbled Dean and he held his hands out in front of him. John pulled something out of his pocket and Dean gave it a second look and suddenly felt an imaginary knife plunge into his stomach. His father was holding a line of white cord. As he started wrapping it tightly around Dean's wrists, knotting it intricately, Dean felt the figurative knife start to twist.

**PRESENT DAY**

"He tied your hands?" Sam was shocked. This was becoming a common state of mind for him, it almost felt natural. "What the hell was wrong with him?"

"I...I don't know, Sammy," said Dean, his eyes focused solely on the blacktop in front of him. "I mean, he didn't seem himself"-

"What cause he was hitting you? Cause that doesn't seem so out of the ordinary Dean."

"No, I mean, it was like he was...possessed or something. Something like what happened at the Asylum," Dean said. He said it matter-of-factly, but it just made Sam feel guilty. So Dean was comparing something he'd done to their father. That sounded positive.

"So he'd never done anything like that before?"

"What? Tied my wrists together? No, never, I mean, the threat of him hurting you was enough to get me to take my shirt off. He knew exactly how to find you. And he knew that if I disobeyed him, he'd be on the next plane to Stanford. He didn't need to do it. He just wasn't himself..."

**FLASHBACK**

Dean winced as John tightened the cords around his wrists. He looked up at his father. Anger seemed to be floating off him in waves. Dean was confused, how could he have made his father so angry in such a short space of time? It didn't make sense.

John finished tying his wrists and his gaze suddenly met Dean's and his son's first instinct was to cringe. There was something in John's eyes that wasn't necessarily human.

"Now get on your knees."

Dean dropped to his knees, his bound hands in his lap, shivering from both cold and fear. John walked towards him and grabbed a fistful of his hair making Dean gasp. John dragged him over to one of the beds and finally let him go, Dean's head dropping onto the bed.

"Put your hands behind your head." Dean raised his hand above his head and placed them at the back of his neck.

He heard John pull out his belt and just hoped he might out.

**PRESENT DAY**

"He just...I mean I could not rest on my back for at least a month, it was so bad," said Dean. "I passed out after about fifteen minutes of it and I have no idea for how long he kept going." Dean paused for a moment then said, "There was something else I remember from that night. Real early that morning, like two or something, I woke up briefly. I smelt sulphur. I never found out what it was from."

"What happened afterwards?" Sam asked. Because he'd never been aware he felt a strong need to know.

**FLASHBACK**

Dean woke up. His head ached and his back felt like it was on fire. His shoulders were sore and he couldn't really feel his hands. He realised he was in the same place as when he'd passed out, on his knees with his head lying on the bed, and his tied hands at the back of his neck.

He looked up to see his father staring at him. He looked like he'd been crying.

"Dad...Sir?" Dean stuttered. His father seemed to look even more broken down when Dean spoke the second word.

"Dean...I...I didn't mean to..." John's voice drifted off.

Dean used the remaining ounce of strength to pull his hands over his head, gasping at the pain in his shoulders and arms.

"Sir, could you...?" Dean held up his arms before his energy waned and they dropped back into his lap.

John stood up and staggered over to his son and dropped to his own knees, pulling out a knife. Dean's breath hitched at the sight of the knife and froze. But John merely cut the cords on his hands. The skin on Dean's wrists was bloody and raw, in fact his hands were stained by blood from cuts caused by the cords.

Dean looked up at John. His eyes seemed normal and held more sadness in them, than Dean had ever seen.

"I'm so sorry, Dean, I just...I don't know what happened. I'm sorry."


	12. Dead Man's Blood

**THEN**

_John stood up and staggered over to his son and dropped to his own knees, pulling out a knife. Dean's breath hitched at the sight of the knife and froze. But John merely cut the cords on his hands. The skin on Dean's wrists was bloody and raw, in fact his hands were stained by blood from cuts caused by the cords._

_Dean looked up at John. His eyes seemed normal and held more sadness in them, than Dean had ever seen._

_"I'm so sorry, Dean, I just...I don't know what happened. I'm sorry."_

**NOW**

**DEAD MAN'S BLOOD**

Sam and Dean sat inside the Impala examining the envelope they'd found at Daniel Elkins' place. The letter was addressed to 'J.W.'

"J.W. - do you think? John Winchester?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean replied. "Should we open it?"

Suddenly there was a knock on the window that made Dean flinch. He looked up and almost flinched again when he saw their father standing outside. He immediately remembered the way they had parted ways last time. "Dad?" Dean exchanged a confused look with Sam whilst their father got into the backseat of the car.

**LATER**

Sam and Dean were asleep in the motel room and John was listening to a walkie-talkie. Or at least Sam was asleep. Dean couldn't. He couldn't let his mind rest whilst his brother and his father were in the same room together again. His mind kept going over the memories of his father. Especially the ones that left scars on his back. One memory kept coming back and he couldn't stop thinking about it.

**FLASHBACK**

"Dad can I be the first person to say, I don't think this is a good idea," Dean said, sitting in the passenger seat of the speeding Chevrolet, unmoving. He didn't want to move anything, in case he felt like jumping out of a moving vehicle at high speed.

"I don't care Dean, if this is the only way to draw the thing out then that's what I'm going with," said John. "There's another one like this, I'm pretty sure. In Indiana, Burkittsville, I think. We'll get onto that one later."

"But I just"-

"Dean, we have been over this. It's the only way. It only comes out for two weeks every year and this is the second last night of the second week. Otherwise we're waiting till next year," John said, his temper was short tonight.

"I know, it's just"- Dean's protest was cut off when John's elbow slammed into his temple. The force of the blow sent Dean crashing into the window. He slumped against the window, unconscious. John sent a quick glance over to the passenger side. But only to check that the window wasn't cracked. He was in luck. He wasn't overly concerned about Dean. He hadn't hit the boy too hard, but he knew that Dean would be more cooperative with himself if he was unconscious.

Dean awoke hours later. He couldn't see a thing, he strained his eyes to see anything and went to rub his face on his arm. It was only then that he realised his arms were high up above his head, tied tightly to the trunk of a tree. His feet only just reached the ground. Without warning, a heavy ache settled into his shoulders.

Dean wondered how long he'd been hanging there. He only hoped his father was somewhere out there. It was probably the first time in the last fifteen years he'd ever thought that. He tried to find his father in the dark but he still couldn't see anything.

He rubbed his face on his stretched arms and it was then he found that the reason he couldn't see was because his eyes were covered by a rag or something, tied tight at the back of his head. Dean tried out Option number 2. He went to call for help. To draw out whatever it was they were hunting, his father still hadn't told him what it was. It was then he realised he was gagged tightly as well. Every damn time his father used him as bait, he tied him so goddamn tight that even if he got away from the supernatural son of a bitch unscathed, he'd always have bruises, rope burns and cuts.

Dean tried to struggle against the ropes. He knew it was no use but he might be able to find a slight bit of slack and he could get some blood pumping back into his head. Even though he couldn't see from the blindfold he looked up to where he knew his hands were tied. As he moved he felt a cord tighten around his neck. He moved his head forward gently and the rope tightened again. Oh, this was just super. Could his father have made him any more scared?

**PRESENT DAY**

"Dean, Sam, wake up," said John as he heard something on the radio that got his attention real quick.

"What it is?" Sam asked sleepily.

Dean sat up and faced his father. The memory had been so vivid that he reached a hand up to make sure there was no cord around his neck.

"911 call," their father said. "A couple called in. Said they found a body on the road. When the cops got there, everything was gone. It's them."

"How do you know?" asked Sam.

Dean would've beaten his brother to that question, however he was still feeling a little shaken from that memory.

"Cause I know how they work," John said.

"And who are they?" said Sam.

"Vampires."

At this Dean finally met his father's eyes for the first time since they'd met up. "Vampires? I thought they didn't exist."

"Oh they do. They just stick under the radar nowadays," John said. He was speaking in a civil, neutral tone, but Dean noticed that he was speaking mostly to Sam. "Forget any lore you've ever read about them. It's all crap. Stakes won't kill 'em. Sunlight won't harm 'em. But the bloodlust...that's true. They have to feed off of people to stay alive. So...we're gonna give them someone."

"What?" Sam asked.

"We're gonna reel them in. With bait."

"Wait, what?" Sam said. He was still a little sleepy but this sounded suicidal. "Bait? But who are we gonna use for bait?"

"Someone who's had experience being bait," John said.

"Dad, you can't be"-

"Sam, I'm not talking about myself," John said. "Or you." He looked pointedly at Dean, who refused to meet either his brother or his father's eyes.

"Dad, you are _not_ using my brother as bait for vampires," Sam said.

"Yes, we are, and if you wanna fight, then he'll definitely look more realistic."

"What the hell do you mean, more realistic?"

"Well, I decided it would be more believeable if Dean had just been beaten up by a gang and left of the side of the road."

"What?" Dean stood up. He couldn't believe his father was just saying this matter-of-factly as if it was a natural thing. "Dad, you can't be serious."

"I am serious. They need you weak. If they can sense that you're strong or that you're just pretending to be weak, they will kill you on the spot. What I need if for them to take you back to their lair. And we'll follow at a safe distance."

"Oh, well aren't you lucky, that you get to be at a safe distance," said Dean, fear entering his voice. "Too bad for me huh?"

"Alright, Dean, I've heard enough from you," said John, and before either of his sons could stop him, he punched Dean so hard across the face, that his son slammed into the wall and fell to the floor, coughing up blood.

"Dad, this is crazy, you can't do this!" Sam shouted at his father.

"Sam, do you remember I told you, if you wanted to fight me about this, then I was gonna make it look much more realistic," John said, his boot connecting with Dean's ribs which again made him crash into the wall.

"Please don't hurt him too much Dad," Sam said. His anger had all but subsided as he watched his father kick Dean in the face. Tears were filling his eyes. "Dad please," he pleaded as he father jerked Dean's head up by a fist in his hair and shoved him into the floor. Once. "Dad, come on please." Twice. "Please, stop hurting him." Three times. "Dad, he's unconscious, stop."

At that John finally stopped. He looked down at his eldest son. His nose and mouth was bloody and redness covered his jaw and cheekbone, redness that would soon turn to dark bruises. Dean groaned, he was only slightly conscious. But it wouldn't last long.

"Dad..." Sam only had eyes for his brother lying bleeding on the floor. "How could you..."

John looked from his youngest son's depressed face to his oldest son's bloody one. Finally he shook the dark feeling off.

"Come on, Sam, we've got work to do."


	13. Hostage

**THEN**

_Dean groaned, he was only slightly conscious. But it wouldn't last long._

_"Dad..." Sam only had eyes for his brother lying bleeding on the floor. "How could you..."_

_John looked from his youngest son's depressed face to his oldest son's bloody one. Finally he shook the dark feeling off._

_"Come on, Sam, we've got work to do."_

**NOW**

**HOSTAGE**

"Now what?" Sam said. The broken, depressed feeling he'd had before had once again given way to anger as he sat in the front seat of the Impala, his father sitting next to him. The road in front of them curved and John had dumped Dean in the bright light of a street lamp and three well aimed shots had made sure that the three street lights around where the Impala was parked was in darkness.

"We wait. They will come," said John.

Sam had made sure that Dean was alright before they'd left. The cuts on his face had stopped bleeding and none of his ribs were cracked but Sam was still royally pissed off at his father.

"I still cannot believe how you treat him," said Sam, trying to keep his voice level.

"What?" John snapped.

"You treat my brother like a punching bag. He may have said that you could hit him, instead of hitting me, but that is still no excuse," Sam said.

"Sam, I'm not gonna take parenting lessons from you. Dean is fine, he"-

"What do you mean, he's fine?" Sam said angrily. "You say something too loud, he flinches. You raise your hand, he cringes. He acts like a beaten dog. Because, for most of his life, he has been. And you have been the one who has led to this. I mean, if Dean's 'fine', then I'd hate to see what he's like when he's not fine."

"I'm not going to talk to you about this Sam."

"I don't care what you"- Suddenly Sam cut himself off. His eyes had moved back to his brother. Except now, he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by about five people. "Uh, Dad?"

Kate's fingers closed around Dean's neck and Dean found himself starting to come around. His gaze was foggy and he couldn't remember a thing. All he knew was that there was some hot chick with her hand on his throat.

"Hello," she said, a smile on her face as she lifted him into the air, his feet off the ground. Dean gasped, clawing at her hands to no avail.

"Wanna come home with us?" she asked.

"Screw...you," Dean croaked out.

"Sounds good to me," she said before giving his throat a quick squeeze. The pressure on his neck and the lack of air made Dean pass out. Kate chucked Dean to one of the others, who in turn threw him into the backseat of one of their cars.

"Oh, Luthor's gonna love this," said Kate.

Sam turned to his father. "Now what?"

"We follow them. Once they're occupied with Dean, we go in," John said almost clinically, as if the person that the vampires were going to be 'occupied' with was a complete stranger and not his own son.

"I cannot believe you," Sam said.

"That is the plan. I don't care what you say," said John angrily back.

"Fine. On one condition."

"What?"

"If it looks like they're gonna hurt him, we go in. I don't care what happens, but I'm not gonna let him..." Sam trailed off. Of course he'd thought the plan was stupid, dangerous and all of the above, and he didn't even want to think about how this would affect Dean.

"Fine."

Dean awoke when he suddenly choked on ice cold water. He coughed to get the water out of his lungs, then looked up to see who'd tried to drown him. He saw the chick he'd seen before. Or had he? His memory was fuzzy, too many hits to the head. He'd be fine in a couple days. He then realised what was going on. His hands were tied tightly around a wooden pole that he was leaning up against and that chick looking down at him? That's right, she was a vampire.

"Hey gorgeous, how you sleep?" she asked with a smile.

"Like a baby," said Dean, wincing at the pain in his shoulders. "And yourself?"

"Much better, now that you're here," Kate said, her smile growing wider. "Hey Luthor, why don't you come see what I brought you?" she called.

"What is it?" a male voice called back from a different room.

"A surprise!"

"A surprise?" Dean repeated. "Oh that's just great."

"That's enough out of you," said Kate, she backhanded him so hard, he blacked out, his head dropping onto his chest.

Sam and John crouched in the shadows near the window. Sam stood up very slowly and gazed in the window. He bit back a gasp as he saw his brother, his face bloody, tied to a post in the centre of the room.

The female vampire, Kate walked towards him and crouched down next to him. She placed her fingers gently on Dean's jaw and lifted his head up. Sam breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dean's eyes open. He then let himself smile when Dean spat in her face. Kate punched Dean hard in the ribs, causing him to double over as best he could whilst tied to a post. The smile quickly faded from Sam's face when she held onto his jaw tightly and leaned his head to one side, exposing his throat

They were definitely a scary looking three guys who walked out of the vampire's den. All three were covered in blood, one more so than the others, his hand pressed to a wound on his throat. He was being held up by another, taller man who stared daggers at the third man, every so often, a bloody machete held in his hand. The third man determinedly looked away from the angry glares, a machete in one hand and a revolver from the 1800's held in his other hand.


	14. Devil's Blackout

THEN

They were definitely a scary looking three guys who walked out of the vampire's den. All three were covered in blood, one more so than the others, his hand pressed to a wound on his throat. He was being held up by another, taller man who stared daggers at the third man, every so often, a bloody machete held in his hand. The third man determinedly looked away from the angry glares, a machete in one hand and a revolver from the 1800's held in his other hand. 

DEVIL'S BLACKOUT

FLASHBACK

Dean woke up slowly. Church bells were ringing in his head.

"Damn," he murmured, wincing as he softly rubbed the cut on the side of his head. He felt stitches and once again thanked God, even though he didn't believe any of that crap, that his skull was still in one piece.

"Good morning to you too," said a voice to his right. Dean jumped and spun around way too quickly to see his father sitting at the table in the motel room, going through his journal.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled.

"Hey Dean?"

Dean froze, his right hand on his temple. His father's voice sounded strange. That certainly didn't make him feel at home.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Look, I know I haven't been the best father," John started.

Super, thought Dean, now he's gonna blame me for it, like he always does. He didn't say anything though.

"But I mean, I was," John stuttered. This was starting to freak Dean out. Why did he have to talk to me like this? Now? When I can barely hear him through this splitting goddamn headache. Why can't he just pull out his belt and everything'll be normal…

"Last night, I got really worried about you. I mean, when the spirit was tossing you around, it kind of reminded me of myself," John said, not able to look his son in the eye. "It scared me."

"Yeah?" Dean finally said after about a minute of silence.

"Yeah, look I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I get wrapped up in it and every time I hunt something," John continued, "I imagine it's the demon. The bastard that killed Mary. And every time, we kill it, send it back to hell, I realize that it wasn't, that it's still out there. And that I haven't got a bullet in that son of a bitch's head yet. It just makes me so…"

"Angry?" Dean offered, feeling the week old belt marks on his back.

"Yeah. I guess I just take it out on you," John finally met Dean's eyes. "Cause you're the only one around."

Dean looked down, at his hands, his watch, anything but his father's eyes.

"I'm just gonna go out and…uh, get some food or something, okay?" John said.

Dean nodded and didn't watch him but heard John pick up the keys, open and close the motel room's door and turn over the Impala's engine, the car rumbling off into the distance.

It was at that moment that Dean realized that he was the only person his father had. With the exception of Sam, who Dean knew didn't really want to know his father. This wasn't the first time that John had apologized and said all that crap about the demon. He said it every time he went too far and Dean was unconscious for two days. Dean didn't really knew if he meant it but figured that it was fairly close to the truth and that his father's regret escaped him every time Dean did something wrong or they were running out of money, or it was the anniversary of Mom's-

Dean stopped himself. He had to get the family together. It was the only chance the Winchester's had of surviving whatever else was out there. He reached across to the bedside table and picked up his cell. He dialed Sam's number.

"Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Can you talk?"

"Uh, well, yeah I guess," Sam said. Dean could tell his little brother wanted to get off the phone and go do something but Dean just wanted to make sure that his brother was okay and maybe if they could all get together next time Dean and John were near Palo Alto.

"So, uh, how are you?"

"Uh, fine, Dean are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just…spirit threw me into a walk-in wardrobe last night, just a little blurry, s'all."

"You sure it was a spirit?" The exasperation in Sam's tone was clearly obvious.

"Sam, stop, I was just thinking, I mean, it's been what a year and a half now?" Dean said. "When are you next on holidays and, I dunno, maybe me and Dad could swing up to California?"

"I don't wanna see him, Dean."

"Well, he doesn't have to come see you, I could just"-

"But he'll be around, Dean, I don't wanna see him. He treats everybody like crap and then he beats the crap out of you. I know I shouldn't have just left you alone with him like that, but I don't wanna see him and for him to act all nice and friendly and then to see the bruises on your face where he's hit you the night before."

"Sam, I"-

"No, Dean. You can come and say hi whenever you want but you don't. And you know what, I don't know if I wanna see either of you. I left the family business, like you said, a year and a half ago. Good bye Dean."

The line went dead. Dean looked down at the phone wondering if maybe he should call back. Then thought against it. Sam certainly didn't want to see him or speak to him. And his father blamed him every time they went on a hunt and killed something that wasn't the demon that killed his mother. No, there was no chance of getting the family back together.

NOW

"Just hold on, all right? Hospital's only ten minutes away," Sam said, trying to keep his voice calm. He was driving his brother's precious Impala, his father was sitting beside him trying to stop the blood pooling from his leg and Sam knew how angry he was that Sam hadn't shot and killed him, and Dean was slumped in the backseat, covered in blood, at death's goddamn door. He figured he was doing an alright job for the situation.

"I'm surprised at you Sammy," John said. "Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye to eyes on this – killin' the demon comes first. Before me, before everything."

Sam glanced at his brother bleeding to death on the backseat in the review mirror. "No, sir," he replied. "Not before everything." He tried a different tangent. "Look, we still have the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright, I mean, we already found the demon"-

Glass shattered, chrome crunched and metal twisted as an enormous 18-wheeler semi slammed into the side of the Impala, sending it careening off the road.


End file.
